


Ripped Jeans Cigarette

by Lapin



Series: Braveheart [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drug Use, It's weed, M/M, Modern AU, Sex, barely counts, teenagers being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/pseuds/Lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin and Nori have their past, and their future, and this evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ripped Jeans Cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Neon Jungle song "Braveheart"

Dwalin is trying to sneak a quiet cigarette under a tree in the empty playground when he hears the rattle of the gate. He peeks around the tree to see if he knows them, worried about being caught, but it's not one of the parents. It's Nori, and Dwalin would think he was doing what Dwalin was, that is, finding a private place to smoke, but he has a kid on his hip. 

It's a boy, Dwalin thinks. Maybe. He's never been good at telling with kids. It's more interesting that they're with Nori. 

“Where do you want to go?” Nori asks the kid. “Swings?” 

“Yeah,” the kid replies, so Nori takes them over and sits them on one of the swings, the kid gripping the cold chains and swinging their feet. They look up, right at Dwalin, and say, “Nori, he's smoking.” 

Nori looks up, and when he sees Dwalin, he sneers. “Do you mind?”

Dwalin stubs it out with his boot, embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck for some reason. It's just Nori. “Sorry. Didn't think anyone would come in here, today.” He scratches just below his ear, nervous. “It's cold.” 

“I have mittens,” the kid says, and they do. Purple ones that match their hat and scarf. “Why don't you have mittens?” The kid slides off the swing and walks right up to Dwalin, Nori trailing, his arms crossed over his chest. He has a knitted hat like the kid's, though his lacks the bobble, and a pair of gloves, all the same shade of purple. “Does your head get cold?” 

“What?” Dwalin has no idea what the kid is on about. 

“Because you haven't got any hair,” the kid explains. “Except that bit in the middle. And you haven't got a hat, or mittens. Dori says we can't leave the house without them.” The kid holds up one hand so Dwalin can see the mitten better. “Dori made these. Are your hands cold too?”

“Of course you choose now to talk to people,” Nori says, under his breath, but Dwalin still catches it. “Ori, he's the size of a bear, he's fine. Now come on, we've only got a little while before dinner. Dori's making lamb.”

Dwalin cannot remember the last time he had lamb. He and Balin aren't much for cooking, even when they have time. He wonders how Dori, whoever that is, makes it. Whatever way, it probably tastes better than whatever Dwalin is going to have tonight. “Who's Dori?” he asks, instead of asking about the lamb. It's not as though Nori is going to invite him back anyway. People tend to hold grudges against people they've been in fights with. 

“Dori is our older brother,” Ori says. He points at Nori. “This is Nori.” 

“We've met,” Nori says, resting his hand on the top of Ori's head. “Ori, come on, he's just -” There's a jingling noise, some pre-set ringtone, and Nori swears, pulling out a battered mobile. “Just a minute, Ori, and I'll push you on the swing.” He answers the phone, and whoever is on the other end starts talking, Nori giving quick, one-word answers. 

Ori looks up at Dwalin again, and then takes Dwalin's hand. “Will you push me?”

He's not sure why he agrees, only that Ori never even seems to consider that Dwalin will say no, just turns and starts leading him back to the swing. Dwalin goes with the kid, not missing the way Nori is watching them both, clearly trying to hurry the conversation along on his end. 

Once they're at the swings, Ori holds their arms up at Dwalin, so he crouches down and lifts the kid into the swing, just like Nori had done, and comes around to the back of. He uses the chains to move Ori, not sure he should really be touching the kid more than necessary. For one, Dwalin is a stranger, a big, scary one, and for two, he and Nori don't have the best history. 

So he uses the chains, while the kid kicks their feet back and forth. He's almost sure Ori is a boy, but he still can't tell for sure, and he doesn't want to hurt the kid's feelings. The only kids Dwalin has ever been around are Dís', and he's not sure they're a great representation of all kids. Kíli would have been climbing the chains of the swing by now, following after Fíli. 

Maybe Ori is louder sometimes. 

“Can you push me higher?” 

Dwalin frowns, looking over at Nori, who is still on the damn phone, but very clearly wants to be off. He's practically vibrating in place watching Dwalin and the kid. Dwalin doesn't blame him. He'd be scared of someone like him handling a kid too. “Are you allowed to go higher?” 

“Dori always pushes me higher. Nori doesn't though. He says I'm too heavy.” 

That sounds like a lie. Dwalin had lifted the kid; they're mostly jumper and mittens and scarf and bobble hat, from how easy it had been. Nori is a skinny thing, but he's not weak. “I don't think I'm supposed to push you any higher,” he tells the kid. “Nori's your brother?” 

“Yeah,” the kid says, not arguing about being pushed higher. “I'm the little brother.” So he is a boy. “I got two sisters too. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Damn, Dwalin hadn't known Nori had that many siblings. 

“I've got an older brother,” Dwalin tells him. “His name is Balin. My name is Dwalin.” 

“Do you and Nori go to school together? I go to the primary school. Nori walks me, and then he goes to school, or my sister Mori does, if she doesn't have to work.” 

Dwalin keeps pushing him. “I go to school with Nori.”

“Are you his friend?” 

There's no really good answer to give a kid, so Dwalin makes a non-committal noise, just as Nori finally puts the phone back in his hoodie pocket. “Ori, come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “We'll come back tomorrow.” 

“You promised,” Ori protests. “We don't have to go home yet!” 

“Ori, not now -” 

“I want to play! You promised!” He's starting to get a whine in his voice, and Nori swears. 

Dwalin lets go of the swing. “I'll go.” 

“Got nothing to do with you,” Nori says, and reaches out for Ori again. “Ori, we need to go home. It's cold.” But he's looking past Dwalin, over to the left. Dwalin looks over his own shoulder, and sees why Nori wants to get Ori inside.

There's a black SUV with tinted windows idling on the corner. Not nice enough to be a dealer. Police then, hoping to meet their quota for the month. Dwalin feels a lurch in his stomach. He's got some weed in his jacket pocket, and a knife in his boot. He'll bet Nori has some things tucked away too. 

He turns back, and crouches down in front of Ori. “Listen to your brother. It's going to rain.” It isn't, he doesn't think, but Ori is a kid, and he'll probably buy it. “I'm going home too.” 

“Will you walk with us?” Ori gets off the swing, and takes Nori's hand, but he's looking at Dwalin still. 

Dwalin stands up, intending to decline, but Nori says, “Why don't you walk with us, then?” He picks Ori up, settling him on his hip again. “Be nice to have someone to talk to. Besides, I get a crick in my neck if I look down at him too long. Nice change of pace to look up.” 

Oh. Nori is scared, and he wants Dwalin there as insurance. The police won't go after two, not usually, and especially not one Dwalin's size. There's a lot of side benefits to being as big as he is. “Yeah, all right,” he agrees, figuring if worst comes to worst, he can ask Thorin or Dís to come pick him up. “Let's go.” 

They might not be friends, but better one another than the police. 

It had been a fight, about six months back. The stupid kind of fight that shouldn't have happened in the first place. Nori had nicked a carton of cigarettes off of Dwalin, and his favourite lighter too, then had the cheek to use the damn thing in front of him. Dwalin had wanted it back. For some reason, it had been really important then. It was _his_. 

He isn't proud of the fight. He hates it when he loses his temper, when he proves people right about him; that he's too big, too rough, too violent. But he couldn't make himself apologise after, even though he should have. It was a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. It hadn't been worth fighting about. 

Ori has stopped talking, maybe finally picking up on how tense Nori is. Dwalin notices the way he keeps shifting Ori's weight from one side to the other. The kid is a little, but he's a bit big for Nori to be carrying around. Finally, Nori sets him down, but Ori doesn't seem to like it. 

“I don't want to walk,” he protests. 

“Then stop eating. You're hurting my back.” 

It's not his place, but Dwalin thinks the faster they get to their home, the better. “You want me to carry you?” He hardly has to ask; Ori has his arms up before Dwalin's done asking, so he bends down and picks the kid up. “You're having lamb for dinner, then?” It's all he can think of. Dwalin's never been really good at talking. “Do you like lamb?”

“Yeah,” Ori says, gripping Dwalin's jacket. “Dori makes it with yoghurt and some other stuff. Cucumbers. It's really good.” It sounds good. Sounds exactly like how Dwalin's father used to make lamb. “What are you eating for dinner?” 

“Don't know yet,” Dwalin says, curious about the same thing. He can't even remember what they have in the house. Maybe he should go down to the corner market after this? No, he shouldn't, not if the police are looking around for victims. They probably have rice, at the very least. “Guess it's a surprise.” 

Nori is looking at him, the eyebrow with the piercing in it raised. “You haven't got any food at your house, have you?”

“I've got food,” Dwalin grumbles. “Just don't know what.” 

They get to a blue front door with some flower pots out front, one with some kind of green bush in it, the others just dirt in the cold winter air. A man around Balin's age is standing outside with a mug in his hands, and he smiles when he sees them. “Did you have fun at the park, love?” he asks. 

“This is Dori,” Ori tells Dwalin, surprising him. “Dori, this is Nori's friend. He doesn't have any dinner. Can he eat here?” 

Dwalin doesn't know what to say, and neither does Nori it seems, because before either of them can say anything, Dori says, “Of course he can,” and heads inside, leaving the door open for them to follow. 

He puts Ori down once they step inside, and the kid runs off, shedding outer layers as he does. Nori picks the stuff up as it drops, folding it over his arm. “I can go,” Dwalin says quickly. 

“So then I get to explain to Dori why he shouldn't have let you?” Nori asks, finding both of Ori's mittens and laying the lot of it out on the little bench by the door. “Lucky you, you're staying for dinner. Take your boots off in our house.” 

He does as he's told, leaving them neatly by the door alongside Nori's own faded black Converse, and hanging his heavy leather jacket on one of the empty hooks. He doesn't have any gloves or anything else, so once the boot and jacket are gone, he's just standing there in the foyer in his socks and a worn tee shirt. “Dori is your brother?” he asks, for something to say. Dori is a lot darker than Nori, and it feels like an all right question until he says it out loud. “I didn't mean...”

“Mind your own business.” He doesn't sound too upset, at least, so maybe it wasn't that rude. Nori looks at him, his eyebrow raised again. “You know that's a gay pride metal band, right?” 

He's talking about the band logo on Dwalin's tee shirt. Dwalin shrugs. “Yeah.” It's not a secret, never has been. Dwalin's just never really dated anyone in school, never really been too interested in anything more than a hook-up at a concert or a party. 

“Huh,” Nori says, and starts off towards the kitchen. Dwalin follows, since he doesn't know what else to do. 

Their kitchen is clearly a family kitchen still. It's clean, but cluttered, with obvious wear and tear. Dwalin can see some cracked tiles near the side door, and one of the cabinets is missing a door, showing a dozen or so boxes of tea and a tin of coffee, plus a sugar jar. Two sides of the table have a bench seat built into the wall, the chairs on the other sides mismatched. The table is a bit worn too, but there's a vase full of carnations on it.

“Do you want something to drink?” Nori asks, opening the old refrigerator. “We've got juice and soda.” 

“That's my juice!” Ori says, from where he's standing by Dori's legs. 

“Soda is fine,” Dwalin says, taking the can when Nori gives it to him. “Should I set the table?” It's awkward, but he feels useless and in the way. He and Nori aren't friends, and Ori only seems to like him because kids are weird and decide things like that for nonsensical reasons. Dori is just being polite. “Where are your sisters?” 

Nori shrugs, getting plates out of a cabinet and passing them to Dwalin, answering the first question. “Mori has the late shift. She won't be home until about midnight. Sori is asleep. She'll wake up when food is ready.” He gets out utensils and starts following Dwalin around the table, laying them out beside the plates. “Shouldn't you ring your family?” 

“Just me and my brother,” Dwalin says. “He won't be home for another few hours. And even if he does get home, he'll think I'm at our cousins'.” 

The food smells good, and Dwalin really cannot remember the last time he actually had a good meal like this. Dís and Thorin cook sometimes, but not often, and none of them seem to be very good at it anyway. 

“Do me a favour lad, would you get that pitcher down for me?” Dori is pointing towards a glass pitcher sitting on top of a free-standing cabinet. Dwalin reaches it easily and passes it down to him. “You are a tall one, aren't you?” He's around the same height as Nori, which means he only comes up to Dwalin's shoulder. “I think I've seen you around the neighbourhood. You're a friend of Nori's, then?” 

Dwalin looks at Nori, not sure what to say, but Nori doesn't help at all, just keeps setting the table. Unfortunately, Dori seems to misinterpret the whole thing completely, because he smiles as he fills the pitcher with water. “Is he that sort of friend then, Nori?” 

“Stay out of my business, Dori,” Nori says, rolling his eyes. 

“Never,” Dori replies. “By the way, do you think you can take Ori out tomorrow? I want to get started on painting in here while I have Sori at home.” 

The conversation doesn't include him, so Dwalin sits down at the edge of the bench seat. Ori takes no time at all to crawl over to him, dragging his colouring book and crayons with him, careful of the dishes that have been laid out. “This is Black Widow,” he says, pointing to the half-coloured image in the book. “Do you like superheroes?” 

Truthfully, he doesn't know much at all about superheroes. He doesn't mind the films, has seen some of them when he's watching Dís' boys and they put something on, but he's never paid much attention to them. “She's the one with the guns.” He thinks she had guns, at least. “Do you like her?” 

Ori nods, looking back down at the colouring book. Dwalin doesn't want to be rude, but he's listening to Dori and Nori's conversation. It's hard not to. Nori has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks small. Dwalin flexes his hands on the table, ashamed all over again of hitting Nori. He's too big. He could have hurt him, really hurt him. Over a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, and if his parents could see him, they'd be ashamed. 

“The police?” Dori is asking, quiet and worried. “Nori, what did you do?” 

“Why do you think it's about me?” Nori meets Dwalin's eyes unexpectedly, then looks away. “I'll tell you later,” he mutters, still loud enough Dwalin can hear. “I was running a job for Bifur, it wasn't a big deal.” 

“This one is Hulk,” Ori startles Dwalin from his eavesdropping. “He's big. Bigger than you.” Nori is setting the pitcher of water on the table, and he snorts at that. 

“I'm sure Dwalin is plenty big,” Nori says. 

Dwalin swallows heavily, not sure what to make of the way Nori is looking at him when he says it, the way his lip curls and he stands up straight again, his hip tilting up just a little when he turns around. Dwalin watches it a bit guiltily. He thinks Nori is just making fun of him now that he knows about Dwalin, but there's no denying Nori is good-looking. Sort of Dwalin's type, too. 

Doesn't matter, he guesses.

He admires Ori's pictures politely, just like he does with Dís' kids, as Nori helps Dori lay out the food. A woman eventually comes downstairs, rubbing at her face, and sits in one of the empty chair. Ori introduces her as their sister, Sori. She's got some East Asian in her, he's sure, and he feels even more uncomfortable. Asking about Dori before was definitely rude then. Nori must just be used to it. Or he's just more interested in his other grievances against Dwalin. 

“Who're you?” she asks, after she notices him. 

“Dwalin,” he says, leaving it at that.

She frowns, and looks over her shoulder at Nori. “Oi, Nori, isn't this -”

“Shut it,” Nori warns, and she turns back to Dwalin, still frowning. 

“What the fuck?” she mouths, but Dwalin looks down at the table instead of answering. It's not as though he knows anyway. 

He wonders what Nori might be in trouble for, why the police hanging about really spooked him so bad. 

Dori and Nori start bringing the food to the table, and it's all Dwalin can do not to stare. He's starving, and this looks much better than whatever he was going to dredge up at his own house. This also isn't his house, he reminds himself, so he waits until everybody else has taken some, Nori putting some of everything on Ori's plate too, and only takes as much as they have. 

It's _good_. It's good, and Dwalin has to force himself to eat slowly and politely. 

“Did you get that pick-up from Bombur?” Sori asks, pointing at Nori with her fork. 

“What pick-up?” Nori is cutting up Ori's food for him while Ori waits, his feet thumping quietly against the bench. “Thought that was tomorrow?” 

“No, it was today,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You're going to have to go get it, then. I can't go around his shop for another month at least.” 

“No, the bloody cops are out.” 

Dwalin keeps eating, but he feels a little less uncomfortable in this strange house now. “I could go with you,” he offers before he can think better of it. “Walk you there and back. Not doing anything tonight.” 

Sori uses her fork to gesture at Dwalin now. “See? There you go. Ain't no one going to mess with him, especially not some underpaid filth. Aren't they having union issues?” This she asks Dori, who nods. “Yeah, they're not putting in the extra effort tonight.” 

“If one of them hits me tonight, I get to hit you when I get home,” Nori warns. 

“Fair is fair,” she says, standing up with her empty plate. “Not like you could really hurt me.” 

They finish eating, and Sori takes the dishes for clean-up, while Dori takes Ori upstairs for a bath, so there's no reason to stall. Dwalin laces his boots back up, and checks the knife, to be sure the handle hasn't slipped, just in case. “Do you mind if I leave this here?” he asks, holding up the little plastic bag of weed. “Just in case?” 

Nori takes it from him and stuffs it in the drawer of some rattly little side table tucked against the wall, making sure it's underneath some things from the sound of it. He puts a few things in too, but not what Dwalin expected. 

“Paint markers?” he asks, curious. 

“I'm an artist,” Nori drawls. “Runs in the family.” 

Once they're outside, Nori produces a cigarette and lights it with a cheap little plastic lighter, neon green in the little circle of flame. “That's my pack,” Dwalin says, because it is. 

“Going to punch me again?” He holds it out for Dwalin to take, and Dwalin shoves it back in his jacket pocket. “Want a hit?” It's really Dwalin's cigarette anyway, so he obliges, enjoying the familiar action, then gives it back to Nori. “What's that called? An indirect kiss?” 

“I said I'd walk you to the shop. Don't make me change my mind.” It doesn't seem to have much effect, but that's more like how Dwalin is used to Nori acting. The way he'd been with his family hadn't been a complete change, but it had been different. “I'm sorry for the fight. I shouldn't have hit you.” 

Nori shrugs, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the cigarette as they walk down towards where the corner store and a few other shops are. “What was so important about that damn lighter anyway?” 

“Used to be my dad's,” Dwalin says, even though that's no excuse, and his dad wouldn't have liked him fighting over the stupid thing. It's a nice enough lighter, metal, real metal, not some cheap little Zippo, but it's still just a lighter. 

“You said it was just you and your brother. Your parents dead?” Dwalin nods. “Our mum died when Ori was...three? Yeah, he was three. He doesn't really remember her much. My dad is in the nick.” 

A car passes them, but it's just a little blue one, the bass thumping. “What are we getting exactly?” 

“Nothing too bad,” Nori assures him. “Just weed. And if we're polite, he'll let me have something to drink out of the kitchens. Guess it takes a lot to get you pissed though, huh?” 

Dwalin nods. “It's why I don't drink. Too much money.” 

The shop turns out to be the restaurant around the way that Dwalin sometimes gets takeaway from. It's different, being inside the place when there's no one else. Bombur is a big, ginger man with a thick moustache, who makes some small talk with Nori, asking about his family, as he rummages through the big walk-in freezer until he finds two large vacuum -sealed bags. Dwalin eyes them, vaguely interested, but he has more than enough at home for how little he smokes. 

The two bags get put in takeaway boxes and then dropped into one of the plastic thank you bags. “Tell her I got her money yesterday,” Bombur says, opening the glass-doored refrigerator. “Do you want some cake to take home?” 

“What do you have?” Nori asks. 

“Nothing special,” he says. “But it's a shame to throw it out.” 

Dwalin can think of worse ways to end an evening than with free cake, and Balin will appreciate it when he sees it. “Your sister deals for him?” he asks, wondering how he ended up carrying both bags. 

“Everyone has to make a living,” Nori sing-songs, walking backwards in front of Dwalin. “It's quality stuff. Actually grown outside, in the sunshine. And organic.” He looks over his shoulder, checking the pavement. “So what are you? Bi? Gay?” He quirks his head to the side. “Ace?”

“Ace?” That's one Dwalin hasn't heard yet. 

“Really?” he looks disappointed. 

“I don't know what it is.” 

Nori spins on his heel so that they're walking beside one another again. “You know, ace, as in asexual.” 

“Like a cell?” Dwalin's confused. 

“That's asexual reproduction,” Nori explains, making a face. “No, it's like, you see someone fit, and you don't want to fuck them, you just like looking at them, sometimes.” 

Dwalin shakes his head. “Don't think so.” 

“So what is it then?” 

“Gay.” It's awkward, talking about this with Nori. Dwalin's always liked the sort that never like him back, boys like Nori who think Dwalin is too dim to be good for anything other than a little fun. It was easier before, when he could just be embarrassed around Nori for a good reason. This is a stupid reason. “Why?” 

“Curious.” His shoulder bumps against Dwalin's bicep. “Why did your da have a lighter with a chicken on it?” 

Dwalin snorts, shifting the bag in his hand as the plastic digs into the soft parts of his fingers. “Stupid story.” 

“You did punch me in the face over it,” Nori reminds him. “I'd like to hear it.” 

He guesses that makes sense. “My dad was Russian. And Jewish. He got here to England when he was fifteen, with his best friend, and between the pair of them, they had pretty much nothing. My dad said he and his friend were hanging around by the docks, hoping for work, when he found that lighter wedged in the rocks. Had fuel in it and everything. And they got work that day.” Dwalin reaches in his pocket, feels out the lighter, and its funny little design. “He thought it was good luck.” Nori is looking at him while they walk, and the combination of the cold and the plastic handle has Dwalin switching the bags from that hand to the other. “After he died, I found the lighter outside. He'd forgotten it when he went to work that morning, I guess.” 

They're both quiet, and Dwalin thinks maybe telling him was a mistake. 

“Yeah, I see why you punched me over it.” He unloops his scarf and puts it around Dwalin's neck, surprising him. It's warm against the back of his neck and his ears. “You're going to freeze. You don't even have gloves.” 

The scarf smells like Nori's house and cigarette smoke. “Thanks.” 

“Can't believe Ori talked to you. He never talks to anyone outside the family, especially not strangers.” He reaches up and ruffles Dwalin's hair. “Think he likes your hair.” His gloves scratch against the shaved parts of the Dwalin's skull. “You're good with kids, aren't you?” 

Dwalin adjusts the scarf around his neck. “My dad's friend, the one he came over it? His daughter, she's got kids Ori's age now. I mind them sometimes. She's got two of them. Fíli and Kíli. They live around the corner from me.” They were always together, the lot of them, when they were kids. It made sense they all stayed together after they started to grow up. Dwalin doesn't think he could have stood having them leave anyway. “Ori's a lot quieter.” 

“There are nuns who are louder than Ori,” Nori replies, laughing. “And he likes to hide, so you have to be careful. Me and my ex were rolling up when he was behind the couch once. And another time, he saw Dori break someone's fingers.” Dwalin stops on the pavement, confused, trying to reconcile the man he'd met with the image. Nori just laughs again. “Don't worry about it. He knows I can handle myself.” 

He knows that. Most people couldn't take a hit from Dwalin. Nori had, and had gotten back up, coming at Dwalin hard. “I know it too.” 

“Not like I really had much of a chance,” Nori says, grabbing Dwalin's free arm to get him moving again. They keep walking, only now Nori is holding Dwalin's sleeve. He's still laughing, softly under his breath, to the point he presses his face against Dwalin's arm. “Thought you really were going to kick my arse.” 

Dwalin can smell Nori's cologne on the scarf, and he's aware of Nori's body pressed against his. He's skinny under all his clothes, Dwalin knows. He's seen Nori in less clothes, when it gets close to summer. “I don't like fighting. Not like that.” Nori is waiting for him to keep talking. It's different. Balin usually lets him be, and he and Thorin and Frerin and Dís don't need to talk much about this sort of thing. Telling someone is strange.

“You more of a mosh pit kind of bloke?” He secures his grip on Dwalin's arm a bit more, enough Dwalin can feel his fingers through the thick leather. 

“That's different. People want me to hit them.” And the violence could be spread out, not just focused on one person. Didn't have to be his fists either. “What about you?” 

“'Make love, not war',” Nori drawls, his fingers creeping across Dwalin's chest. “I'm too smart and way too pretty to be risking my face.” 

Dwalin's got a reply for that, but then they get close enough to see Nori's house, and the black car sitting across from it. “Friends of yours?” Dwalin asks instead. 

Nori shakes his head. “Shit. Can't come to the house with this stuff, not if they're watching. Damn it. Now what?” 

It doesn't seem like a real question, but Dwalin still has an answer. “We can go to my house. My brother isn't going to be home for hours, and even if he was, he wouldn't care. Not about you being there at least.” Might care a lot about the weed, but there wasn't any need to tell him about that. “This way.” 

They have to cut down a few side streets to get to Dwalin's place. There are more cops out, lingering outside the park and wherever else they must have knocked heads before. The takeaway bag helps, Dwalin thinks. Looks they're just getting back from dinner, if any of the cops feel like taking a second look at the pair of them. 

The flat Dwalin and Balin live in is empty, Balin still out. Dwalin turns on the lights, watching Nori out of the corner of his eye. Their flat is nothing like Nori's house. There's no clutter, and not much in the way of decoration, but the only people who ever see the place is family, until now. Now, Nori is here, and Dwalin feels uncomfortable again. Maybe they should have spent some money making the place a bit more homey. 

“Really is just the two of you, isn't it?” Nori asks, sitting down on the sofa. “Got anything to drink?” 

“Beer. Water.” 

“What kind of tea?” When Dwalin shakes his head, Nori stares. “You're _English_.” 

“I am not,” Dwalin barks. “I was born in Scotland, and my mother was Scottish. I grew up there.” 

Nori holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “The point stands. How do you not have tea?” He makes a horrified face. “Do you not like tea?” 

“Shut it,” Dwalin says gruffly, taking the bags into the little kitchen. “I get it from the shop by school.” He puts the packs of weed in the mostly empty freezer for safekeeping, and sets the plastic containers of cake on the counter, Nori standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching him. “Do you want a beer?” 

“Got a better idea,” Nori says, opening the freezer again and taking one of the bags out. “Where do you keep your supplies?” 

“Drawer in the table.” 

While Nori packs the bowl, Dwalin finds forks for the cake, and fills a glass with ice. Dwalin's mouth always gets dry when he smokes, and he likes to suck on an ice cube to relieve it. By the time he has everything set out, Nori's already hooking up his mobile to the stereo. Dwalin doesn't know the song that starts. It's a woman singing, and he doesn't mind it, so he leaves it.

He's been buying from the wrong dealer, he concludes, after they've eaten a slice of the vanilla cake and half of the chai. Whoever is growing this is a bloody genius. He says it out loud, and Nori laughs. 

“One of them will probably agree with you. The other one doesn't talk much.” He rolls his shoulders. “I worked at their farm over a few summers. That was before Bombur got me working for his cousin. Year-round work.”

“Wish I had year-round work,” Dwalin says. “What do you do?”

“I'm his messenger boy, usually. But I've got a good hand for lock-picking too. He's been having me work in his shop even. Letting people back into their cars, that sort of thing.” He exhales a smoke ring, Dwalin watching. “You know why I nicked your lighter?” 

“Nah.” He really doesn't.

He thinks he understands a bit better when Nori straddles his lap. He's skinny, and light, but warm and solid too. Dwalin grabs him by his thighs, forces him forward just a bit more, and Nori takes that as invitation to keep on. He runs his hands over the shaved parts of Dwalin's head, over Dwalin's ears. One goes down the neck of Dwalin's tee shirt to settle between his shoulder blades, and the other goes up Dwalin's stomach. Dwalin pushes him back again and grabs his shirt by the neck, yanking it off.

“And it's not even my birthday,” Nori says, catching at the ring in Dwalin's nipple with his fingers. “So this is alright?” 

Dwalin gets his hand around the back of Nori's neck so he can pull him into a kiss. It's been awhile for him, and he's hard embarrassingly quick. He's not sure just how far Nori wants this to go, and he doesn't want to make it too obvious just how interested he is. There's no hiding it though when Nori shifts on his lap, laughing under his breath. “You fancy me, Dwalin?” 

There's not much point in answering, Dwalin figures, so he doesn't say anything. He doesn't worry too much either, because Nori presses his whole body against Dwalin's, his shirt warm against Dwalin's bare chest, his breath sharp. He's hard too, and he apparently does want to do something about it. 

“I've got a bed,” Dwalin offers. “More room.” 

“You say the sweetest things.” He stands up and pulls on Dwalin's hand, encouraging him up. “Let's go.” 

Dwalin hadn't made his bed this morning, but maybe that's a good thing. The room looks more lived in with the blankets rumpled up. He forgets to care when Nori pulls him close by his belt, undoing the buckle and then the fly of Dwalin's jeans, while Dwalin explored his neck. He's not sure this is a good idea, not really, but it feels good enough, so he'll deal with the fallout later. 

When Nori pushes him back, his hands flat against Dwalin's chest, Dwalin sits back on the bed, tugging his boots and socks off in the dark room, trying to watch Nori too. There's a word for Nori, Dwalin knows it, thinks it starts with an 's', but he can't really remember it. He likes watching Nori move though. 

The music is still playing in the living room, and the flat is small enough they can hear it.

“You listen to Neon Jungle?” Dwalin asks, opening up the middle drawer of the bedside table to see what he has. He can't remember ever actually having someone in his bed. That's never really been his situation. “Really?”

“You're lucky you're as fit as you are,” Nori answers, stepping out of his jeans and his pants. “What do you like?” 

Dwalin reaches out, grabs at Nori's hips, and runs his thumbs over the bones. “Get on the bed,” he says, and Nori does, his head on Dwalin's pillow. Dwalin kisses his stomach, enjoying the warmth of Nori's skin, the feel of him under Dwalin. He kisses down, his hands stroking Nori's thighs, until he gets to Nori's cock. This isn't like how it usually is, some quick thing in a dark corner or wherever. This is his _bed_ , and Nori is completely naked under him. 

The sounds Nori makes under him are just barely audible over the music, they're so quiet. He's got his hand in Dwalin's hair, his nails just scratching Dwalin's scalp at times. Dwalin spreads a hand over his stomach when Nori starts moving, holding him still, and feels the way the muscles jump, how quick his breath is coming. He uses it as a tell, and when Nori is really pushing against his hand, Dwalin takes his mouth off Nori's cock, and comes up the bed so they're better lined up. 

He grabs the lube off the table and gets some on his hand, enough they're both comfortably slick when Dwalin slides against Nori. Nori's nails dig into the nape of Dwalin's neck, probably leaving marks as they move together on the bed. Nori comes first, kissing Dwalin hard when he does, his mouth open and panting. He reaches a hand between them and takes over for Dwalin quickly though, Dwalin biting at Nori's neck, and Dwalin comes too, his fingers digging into Nori's side. 

“That was fun,” Nori mutters, throwing an arm across Dwalin's stomach. “Let's do it again. Maybe with food.”

“What, like a date?” Dwalin peeks at Nori.

Nori sits up on his elbow, looking down at Dwalin. “You punched me in the face. I get a date. One you pay for.” He climbs back on top of Dwalin, bracketing Dwalin's head with his arms. “I might even blow you.” 

“Yeah,” Dwalin says, closing his eyes. He's tired. “Yeah, alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> So.  
> So, please at read this post on my Tumblr, if you have the time. There's nothing offensive or triggering (i don't think, tell me if there is), no screamers or anything awful, I swear! [Here](http://themarchrabbit.tumblr.com/post/123620554414/marchs-day)


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